


Stolidity

by livethekind



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-13
Updated: 2011-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-14 18:05:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livethekind/pseuds/livethekind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Displays of emotion are taboo for cool kids. That doesn't stop him from breaking the rules a bit, when he thinks no one is looking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stolidity

Cool.

The word itself held meaning in the Strider household. It was something that went unspoken, a sort of silent mantra. Dave had polished his ability to disguise his feelings behind a facade of apathy until it practically fucking shone. He prided himself on being cooler than his friends -- _all_ of his friends -- and being the one they looked up to. He was the knight, the one who held the entire game together. If it weren’t for him, the game would have surely ended in disaster; without stable time loops, things would crash and burn really quickly. Especially after that escapade with John and the rocket pack, Dave had been careful to remind his friends of his purpose in the game -- he was there to keep them all alive, and make the timeline right.

Being dead generally made the game a lot harder to win. Not that it was meant to be won in the first place.

Sometimes, though, being cool had its drawbacks. Being the cool kid meant that Dave couldn’t possibly do what he wanted all the time. Cool restricted actions, restricted what could be said. Cool demanded that as much as Dave might want to play in the snow ( _it was cold but Jade would be so happy and she’d flash him that smile she reserved for particularly spectacular things_ ), he couldn’t. That as much as he wanted to smile at Rose when she made some sort of humorous remark, he had to restrict himself to a smirk and a nod. Those people who were going to save the world had to maintain a certain exterior, so people would look up to them. So that people would respect them. Sometimes this seemed to work in reverse; he generally ended up with the short end of the stick, stuck saving damsels (of both sexes) with no hint of thanks.

Anger. Jealousy. Sadness. These things were taboo, things that Dave didn’t really talk about or let on that he felt. There were other things, of course, but these were the main ones. The ones that he wrestled with and felt often. It was easy enough to get over sometimes, but Dave had more uncool problems than he cared to admit.

Fuck the facade, he told himself. I can feel what I want and still be just as cool. But of course, he never dropped the shades and the stoic face, never stopped being who he thought he was. Because really, being cool got him everywhere. He would save being a loser to people like John.

\--

John, the boy who got everything. It seemed that wherever Dave looked, people were talking about the boy who was so marvelous. Oh, what a great heir! Oh, look at the windy thing that he did! Oh, he climbed up to the top of his escheladder so quickly! Dave had done things too, and he resented the fact that he never got any recognition. Why did people talk about John, but not him? He was the one keeping everything together. Without time, there would be no stability. People would die.

 _God_ , Dave hated how other people got the glory. It wasn’t supposed to irritate him (think cool, calm, collected, dammit) but sometimes, when the moment was right, the cool facade slipped. On the inside, it was infuriating. It irked him that the boy who was stupid enough to let himself get killed would be the one getting all the glory. The knight, the one who actually deserved the recognition? Got nothing, of course.

“Fuck you, Egbert.” Dave had growled, staring into the sky as Skaia’s light pierced through the eternal darkness. “Fuck you.” Terezi had laughed at him, of course. She was the only one who could really tell when he was irritated or upset, and he hated her for it, but not enough to tell her so. It wasn’t cool to tell people off in a less than metaphoric and ironic manner, and so he shut his mouth and let her have her fun. He would figure out a way to ascend the god tiers too. Then, perhaps, people would give him the glory he deserved.

\--

The quest bed was almost as ominous as its name, made of solid stone. Dave thought it was a pretty weird place to take a nap, but he hadn’t exactly created the game. Standing over himself for what seemed like the millionth time, ready to send yet another Dave to the depths of hell or whatever waited for you after a failed session, he paused.

Why would he give a failed self the glory of getting what he most wanted? It didn’t make sense, to kill the boy who would eventually get himself killed anyway. Ascending the god tiers was for idiots, anyway. This Dave would get no more pleasure from it than the real one did.

Jealousy was not a cool thing. Jealousy wasn’t even potent for non-cool kids; it came back to bite you, came back to twine around your ankles and pull you into regret. Dave felt it anyway, the feeling of wanting something you could never possibly have. He would never ascend the god tiers -- god damn Terezi for telling him so -- and never get his glory. He would never be the hero, always the sidekick. The fucking sidekick. While Egbert got to traipse around in his ridiculous hooded shirt, giving a shit about nothing and generally just being a dumbass. Wow, what a great idea, to send the idiot in to save the world! Although they were friends, Dave had to be jealous of the fact that John always got the good things. He was always the one who received the benefits, while Dave was stuck dealing with the shit John left behind.

So he put his sword away. That Dave would die in some other pathetic attempt, some other accident or slip of the foot. The failures could try to be as cool as the reality, but somehow they never worked out. They always lost.

Coin flips were a bitch.

“I am sick of this bullshit,” he mumbled to himself. It was hard, knowing Terezi could hear him, knowing she could watch his actions and tell him what to do and when to do it. He could imagine her sitting somewhere in a different universe, laughing, annoying the fuck out of whoever sat next to her. Probably the angry one, Karkat, Dave told himself. They seemed chummy enough.

“Why don’t I get anything good in this game? When’s my turn?” He paused, as if waiting for an answer. Receiving none (except, perhaps, a far-off _naknaknak_ from the crocodiles) he kicked at the quest bed, where his doomed self still slept.

His brother wouldn’t have these problems. Dave was certain of this as he disappeared, back into the fabric of time. His brother was the coolest, the smoothest. In that brief moment, Dave was fairly certain that he was jealous of his brother, as well as his best friend.

“Dammit.”

\--

Bro’s death really never affected him.

At least, that was what Dave liked to tell people. He was fine, he would be fine. The man had never treated him like family anyway. They had sparred whenever Bro felt like it, and when he didn’t, smuppets were strewn everywhere, another hazard to watch out for. His life felt more like a movie than an actual day-to-day experience at times. Dave was secretly glad that his friends had fairly abnormal lives, themselves. It made his seem spectacular, even in comparison to theirs. He prided himself on having the coolest abnormal life in a sea of abnormal lives.

But it hurt, losing the one person who really knew you. It hurt to see the dead, unmoving eyes of the brother (father? who the hell knew) that raised you. Dave had seen himself dead, and he took it hard; the memory of his own blood against his fingers still showed up in his memories. It was hard to forget. But seeing someone you admired -- all right, loved -- gone was harder.

For the first time in a long time, he had cried. Not much, of course. The ever present desire to be cooler than his brother remained, even after Bro’s death. Dave had never thought he would see anything like this.

And for the first time, he realized that time couldn’t change what was meant to happen. That hurt most of all.

“I’m fine.” Dave repeated this to himself as he left his brother. They were too cool for goodbyes. They didn’t need them. Instead, Dave pushed his glasses and walked away, sword over his shoulder like a master of irony. His Bro would be proud he thought. Not showing weakness.

He’d be fine.

Maybe.


End file.
